


Matches And Gasoline

by fandomfluffandfuck



Series: Comfortable [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Almost), (just some words like cunt and pussy and shit and yeah), (well as much as I am capable of y'know), 40s Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, Begging, Breeding Kink, Bruises, Bucky Barnes Has a Big Dick, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Come Marking, Comeplay, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Feminization, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hickies, Knotting, M/M, Making Out, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Bucky Barnes, Multiple Orgasms, No Plot/Plotless, Omega Steve Rogers, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Rutting, Shower Sex, Shrunkyclunks, Size Kink, Slutty Steve Basically, Stamina, Steve Rogers Is A Size Queen, Strength Kink, Teasing, adult conversations, anyway-, erotic crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Bucky and Steve hit it off in the new century, except Steve is pretty sure there's got to be a better way to say you think you've finally met The One,  but Steve has a secret... a secret that he's yet to let Bucky in on even though Bucky seems to want to date him already, thinking he's an alpha. But, well. There's that secret again... Steve Rogers is an omega. Captain America is anything but an omega. And yet, he, as just Steve is and Bucky and the rest of the world don't know it. History sucks like that a lot of the time he's learning.When Bucky learns of Steve's designation it's because he mentions his upcoming rut, well, there's no goddamn way Bucky is a strong enough man to say no to having Steve of all fucking people - of all fucking omegas - as his rut partner.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Comfortable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131260
Comments: 46
Kudos: 241
Collections: Smut2020to21





	Matches And Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me wanting to write Captain America, a.k.a. big, strong Steve as an omega and modern, normal Bucky as an alpha who is overwhelmed by the handful that is Steve Rogers. So, yeah, Steve is giving Bucky a helping hand - being a hole for him to plow during his rut - and drooling his way through it because it's not like taking his massive knot is a hardship or anything.

_“Hold on- hold… wait. Wait.” “I’m sorry._ **_What?_ ** _”_

_“Uhh-”_

_“No. I- I mean. You don’t have to- don’t repeat yourself or anything. But, like. Steve? I got what you said, I just… I… I don’t-”_

_“Don’t know how to process it?”_

_“Maybe? I don’t even, like, know. I- you- I…”_

_“What? You can ask anything you want, Buck, I don’t mind. I trust you.”_

_“You don’t smell like an omega?” “...Sorry, that came out rude.”_

_“No, it’s okay. I mean you are right anyway. But, yeah, I… uhh. I use scent blockers.”_

_“Oh.” “That would make sense, I guess. ‘Lotta omegas do.”_

_“Yeah… I mean, it’s, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I’m an omega, I know and like two other people do. I just. I’m used to hiding it.”_

_“Oh. That. That’s sad, Steve! You shouldn’t have to hide just because the government didn’t think citizens would be able to handle having their almighty hero be a male omega. Or, shit, an omega at all. Wait?! Only ‘like two’? Like- what? No, actually. You, I- I mean, you shouldn’t have to do fuckin’ anything, not come out at all they did it to_ you, _make ‘em revise those books they give out to kids for history class._ _But- like, if you wanna tell me of course, why keep doing it?”_

_“It?”_

_“Hiding. You could come out, be yourself, y’know.”_

_“Did you miss that whole month of chaos, Buck, when it was leaked to the New York Times that I’m bi-”_

_“No! I- I meant come out with your designation.”_

_“I know, Buck. I was just… just. Deflecting, I guess?”_

_“Oh.” “Is it not something you’re comfortable with? ‘Cause we can talk about something else.”_

_“I mean- I’m as comfortable as I’ll ever be, beyond that too a little bit, being a male omega who grew up in a generation that said male omegas are as good as dirt and might as well be thrown to the side or… or taken out and left to rot as pups but… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem… seem? It doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense. I guess.” “Both in why it matters to me and why I haven’t just ripped the band aid off yet.”_

_“Huh. I guess… yeah, I’d have to think on that for, like, a lot longer than I’ve been alive. If I was in your shoes.” “Did anyone know when you got back?”_

_“Uhhhhh-”_

_“That doesn’t seem like something to blush over, Steve.”_

_“I mean, not on the surface, but, like, I use scent blockers, right?”_

_“You mentioned that.”_

_“I use ones, scent blockers, that SHIELD made me.”_

_“What? They made you some?”_

_“I use scent blockers that were invented specifically for_ **me,** _by a government protection facility. I know, it’s weird. When they thought I was stable enough to be informed about what really happening-”_

_“When they dragged you back to SHEILDs facility and off of the streets of New York, you mean.”_

_“Haha, Bucky, yes. When I was done running around New York trying to figure out what fucking fever dream I was having they told me. I- that’s when I noticed, and they told me like I hadn’t already noticed, that all the agents and nurses and doctors and people around me were omegas. There weren’t even any betas, Buck. All omegas. Which- to be fair, was pretty mind blowing to see because when I was last, y’know, aware omegas could barely hold down any sort of job at all. ‘Cause no one thought they could-”_

_“Which is so fucking stupid.”_

_“Yeah, I know! But… uhh, um, there were only omegas because I, I, uhh, smelled and do smell really strong.”_

_“You smell strong? So? It’s not like you’d been taking showers?”_

_“Bucky!”_

_“What?”_

_“You’re the_ worst.” 

_“Uh-huh.” “Keep talking.”_

_“I smell so much like an omega because the serum basically amplified everything about me to beyond, so far beyond regular people and it also changed my smell. I smelled like an omega since I presented, of course, but with the serum I smell like an omega going into heat pretty much all of the time. Like, I don’t know how to put it-”_

_“Like your scent is really thick or sweet or something?”_

_“Yeah! I guess-” “I guess it was particularly bad when my metabolism came back up to normal and I, uhh… I…”_

_“You’re blushing again.”_

_“You’re lucky I like you or I’d hit you. Yes, I’m blushing now and I was then when one of the nurses told me that_ just _my smell slowly drove the alphas and even_ betas _there insane. I triggered a bunch of the alpha’s cycles.”_

_“You’re like a one man atomic bomb.”_

_“Oh my god! You did not just- ugh.”_

_“…”_

_“But, what about you, Buck. You mentioned that you forgot to call your boss and remind him that you need rut-time off, yeah? You didn’t, like, ask to have your brain rewired by knowing that Captain America is an omega, it just kinda slipped out there, sorry.”_

_“‘It kinda slipped out’? Some secret keeper you are.” “You didn’t rewire or explode my brain though, Steve. I didn’t- you’re you. I didn’t assume that you were an alpha. I thought since the whole point of ‘Captain America’ as an image was propaganda that the alpha thing probably was too. Especially with the population influx, knowing that alphas and omegas are rare compared to betas. When I met you I just… just figured you were a beta. Lotta people are. I didn’t- you shouldn’t- I don’t know where I’m going with this. I. I’m glad you told me though.”_

_“Mmm, thanks, Buck. You’re sweet.” “Um, let me know if this is weird, like, now-”_

_“In modern times, you mean?”_

_“Yes. In the current times of the twenty-first century where the lights are so bright and the streets are so packed with people and I can’t barely breathe because of poll-”_

_“Oh my god! Stop. I can’t take it! I’m sorry I insinuated that you're old.”_

_“Why, thank you. But, like I was trying to say before you_ interrupted _me, let me know if this is weird because, well, I know that now there’s better assistance for people in season-”_

_“I’m gonna interrupt you very briefly to tell you that, Jesus, please just say sex toys. Sex toys are awesome.”_

_“Okay, yeah, sex toys have come a long way and so it’s probably a little creepy to ask you if you have a rut partner or not but… I’m curious.”_

_“Captain America is curious about_ my _sex life?! I’m shocked!”_

_“Oh, can it, Barnes.”_

_“No, I don’t have one.”_

_“Is it still a, like, thing?”_

_“Yeah, there’s lines of sex work specifically for rut and heat support, phone numbers you can call, people you can hire to come over, those kinds of things. Most of the time though it’s just casual, not like how you remember it I’m guessing?”_

_“I mean- it was sometimes, a lot of the time actually, now that I’m thinking about it, casual. But it was an honor. Kinda. Like, if you were sharing someone’s season it was either because they were your bond mate or eventual bond mate or really close friend. A lot of the friend part of it was because while it wasn’t, like, pure agony to be alone with some of the sex toys we had at the time but it was still pretty much unbearable. So when you could you’d have a partner.”_

_“Huh. So- was that like your super sly way of offering to be my rut partner this time around, since you know I’m single?”_

_“What! No! I just-”_

_“It’s okay, I’m joking, you said you were curious. But, y’know, if you were offering… I wouldn’t say no. But, it’s fine, I’ll be just fine on my own with my twenty-first, high tech sex toys.”_

_“Fuck.”_

_“…”_

_“It sounds like you’re offering now.”_

_“Maybe I am.”_

_“…”_

_“…”_

_“I trust you, Buck, you know that. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, nothing but welcoming and helpful and a great, great friend. But, I, now that we’re sort of on the topic- I, given the chance, would also love to have the opportunity to have more, y’know?”_

_“Like being my rut partner?”_

_“No- like, well, I would be more than happy to be your rut partner if that’s what you want. But, like, I like you. And I know, well, I don’t know really, but I’m assuming it’s not that good of a thing for an omega to ask out an alpha but. I just- now you know. I’m giving you the initiative by telling you, you can do whatever you want about it, whatever that is. I like you and I thought that you thought I was an alpha so I didn’t br-” “Mmm.”_

_“You talk a lot when you're nervous, it’s cute but I had to shut you up somehow.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“I like you too.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“I would love to have you to help me through my rut, as an eventual bond mate, right, that’s what you said? Not just as a good, trusted friend.”_

_“I- yes. That sounds good.”_

_“Good. I can’t wait to find out what else the serum did to you.”_

_“Oh my- Jesus. I don’t know why I like you.”_

_“But you do.”_

_“I do.”_

The second Bucky’s eyes open he’s groaning. 

He tries to swallow the sound - he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it - but it doesn’t go away, it just grows into a growl. Vibrating low in his chest and calling attention to how dry and rough the inside of his throat feels. He must’ve been making sounds in his sleep if his throat already is hurting. He blinks a couple of times, ignoring his throat, he tries to take some soothing breathes to banish the growl from his chest- tries to just fucking wake up too. 

But a raw throat is the least of his problems, his number one, biggest issue is that his muscles ache all over his body - his back and thighs and hands and  _ everywhere _ \- and his skin itches with heat and his cock is already on it’s way to hard and his uncontrollably clenching jaw and the instincts mauling the insides of his his skull. His darkest, deepest, most primal instincts begging to be let out. His inner alpha awaits the break in him - waiting to break him maybe - waiting for his rut fever to spike even more and his cycle to get more underway, to drive him crazier. 

His rut is here. Darkening the horizon like a raincloud, shaking his skin like far away thunder to a windowpane, hardening him like clay under a blue, drought-ridden sky.

He hefts himself up with another groan,  _ god,  _ he works out and he still feels like he’s been run over by a truck at the beginning of his rut. Every time. Sitting up in bed is a journey but once he gets there he rubs his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes and massaging his aching jaw- the muscles begging to  _ bite  _ and  _ claim. _ Waking himself up and incidentally wafting his own climbing rut scent into his nose from the scent glands on his wrists, which have begun working overtime to pump out his smell. Clamoring for him to mark his omega with his thickened scent. Rushing his system with hormones and his apartment’s air with pheromones. He hopes Steve at least will appreciate-

Wait!  _ Steve! _

_ Fuck.  _ Fuck- he must really be getting into his rut already if he forgot that Steve is here to help him with his rut. His _ boyfriend. _ His omega. His Steve. 

One of his hands shoots out to the other side of the bed like he’s suddenly been overcome with alien hand syndrome, himself and his hand is expecting to come in contact with the blonde’s soft, soft skin over his hard, fantastically built muscles. He’s expecting Steve to be there. Bucky whorls to the side- he’s not, his hand isn’t just misguided. He’s gone. A low whine starts in Bucky’s throat…  _ where could he have gone? Why would he go? _ He presses his hand into the mattress without thinking about why because all of the sudden his vision isn’t so blurry and he can see that the imprint of his gorgeous body is still there, he’s just not. 

_ So he’s here… somewhere.  _

On the bright side though, without his wrists so close to his face and instead swimming through his sheets Bucky can smell the omega. He smells like everything sweet and  _ real, _ nothing fake, nothing twenty-first century about his scent, he smells like pastries and sugary, candied fruits and so many other things that he can’t put his finger on but would love to taste. And he was fucking right, so fantastically  _ right-  _ he smells  _ so _ strong. 

_ Huh,  _ Bucky does some mental gymnastics, thinking about when he last went into rut… 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that normally he’d probably be in pre-rut still but he must have been pushed him forward a couple of days- at least a day, by Steve’s scent. His  _ normal,  _ non-scent blocked smell. Not even his heat smell.  _ Fuck.  _ Bucky’s mouth actually starts to water, just from imagining how nice he would smell, how strong he would smell, when he goes into heat.  _ “Nnngh, guh, nnn-” Steve’s face is screwed up in beautiful agony as Bucky just sits and breathes in his rich, lust scent; wanting so, so badly to get fucked but not doing anything to him. He’ll wait for his alpha. Heat sweats cover his body rather than clothes, glinting in the light like he’s coated in superheated liquid glass, shimmering over his perfect body. His thighs are spread, wanton and desperate, his hungry cunt on display. It’s gorgeous. Completely meant to be displayed between the strong, pretty lines of his thighs and his round, perky ass. He’s dripping even more liquid glass, crying and begging for his knot, squirming and restless. His eyes are just as glazed as the rest of him. Weak and needy, only for his alpha. One of his hands is outstretched, begging for him to come closer and sink his teeth into his flesh. To claim him with his teeth and his knot.  _

Bucky’s own mating call, his own loud but low growl shakes him from his daydreams. His knot is throbbing like a cracked tooth. He’s hard, even _harder._ _Fuck._ He might go insane smelling and just thinking about Steve. He might murder a man over Steve’s scent. His alpha instincts are clawing at him, shredding him up inside. Wrecking him, wreaking havoc inside of him. He can’t imagine Steve’s scent getting better and, yet, he knows it can. It does. It will. Just after a day of wearing scent blockers and then letting them wear off without reapplication has his scent clinging to him and the bedsheets. What the _fuck?_ How is he supposed to survive his rut like this? Steve didn’t even take a shower to wash off the blockers, he just ran through them, and-

Steve didn’t shower. 

Showers. Shower. Speaking of showers- his shower is running.

_ Steve.  _

Bucky is up and moving before he can even register thinking about moving, his aching muscles don’t care, all he cares about is  _ Steve.  _ Steve, his omega, is in his shower. He’s in his shower and he’s  _ got  _ to be naked. Naked and  _ wet.  _ He’s gotta have water running down his skin, getting him all wet and shiny and-  _ fuck. Fuck. Fuck!  _

Bucky moans, imagining the sight that must be his omega fully naked and wet and washing himself- but,  _ no,  _ Bucky whines out loud in the empty room.  _ No.  _ He hurries to the doorway that takes the master bedroom of his apartment to the master bath, tripping over himself a few times but he doesn’t stall on any of the stumbles; his body knows nothing but the need to get to Steve, to his omega. He needs to  _ see  _ him and he needs to  _ stop  _ him, he can’t wash off his scent. He can’t wash off all of their combined scent after he spent the night in his bed. He  _ can’t.  _ He can’t.

Bucky doesn’t even feel his achy, full cock hit his stomach as he rips his sleep pants away from his body in the doorway. He leaves them in a little pile. He’ll pick them up eventually. First, he’s got to get to Steve. 

Steve is in the shower, the gloriously see-through glass shower stall walls proves that. Bucky breathes out a quick breath of relief.  _ Omega,  _ his instincts rumble happily in his chest. 

His feet carry him to the shower stall door. He opens it. He slips in behind his omega, his fingers sliding over the nearest available part of the other man, slipping over his wet, soft skin. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Digging his fingers into his hip and pulling him back, pressing his wet, warm body against his chest and front. 

Steve jolts against him, gasping,  _ “Bucky! _ Oh, Jesus!”

He chuckles but can’t make his tongue and lips and teeth move appropriately to apologize- how can he sneak up on an enhanced human being? He will never know, but he can appreciate it. His omega is so adorable. More sounds rumble in his chest. He hopes Steve can at least hear those sounds over the rush of the shower if he can’t hear his footsteps. 

“It here?” Steve asks, relaxing into his hold, letting himself just be held for a second. Bucky takes advantage of this second, he slides one of his hands from his hip to his belly, stroking his front lazily while he buries his face in Steve’s neck, pushing his nose directly into Steve’s scent gland and making him whine. High and breathy and gorgeous. His cock jumps in response to the noise and also the smell. It’s so much better coming straight from him. So much. He can feel the work the blonde’s smell is doing, his skin is burning hotter, itching harder, and he can feel how much more he’s started to sweat, even in the bathroom full of steam, humid as a sauna. He growls into Steve’s neck and lavs his tongue over his skin, he can taste the thick smell of him on his tongue and he really wants to howl because of it. “Gonna take that as a yes,” Steve says, breathy and soft. Melting back into him. 

“You smell so good,” he growls between little nips and nibbles at Steve’s neck, staving off his want to bite him and bond him right here and now by giving into his instincts but just a little bit. Uttering his first words of the morning. It sounds like the first thing he’s said, Steve agrees too, if the full body shiver that overtakes him has anything to say about it. 

“Nu-uh,” Steve sighs, rolling his head to the side to give him more space to work. Bucky takes the room in stride, licking another line up his neck, making him shiver again. 

“No,” Bucky shoves it right back at him, squeezing him and adding, uselessly, “wanna roll around in it,” as if that’s proof as to why he smells so fucking good. 

Steve snorts, tapping the hand that he’s got on his stomach and telling him sweetly, “you’re just knot-brained right now, Buck. I reek, I sweat in my sleep ‘cause the serum made me a furnace, I smell like- like…  _ well. _ Maybe you were right- maybe I do smell like a bomb. A stink bomb though, not an atomic one.” He laughs at his own words but Bucky doesn’t. He’s _ serious. _ He smells  _ so  _ good. “Lemme wash up,” he adds after catching up to himself, choking down the last couple of giggles present, “you go and make something for breakfast and then I’ll come to bed, okay? After we eat.” 

Bucky shakes his head and growls without thinking, grabbing at Steve harder. The fire under his skin roars, growing and spreading. Instinctually he pulls the blonde more against his body - his head spinning with how he’s physically so big but folding like he’s tiny, letting him do whatever he likes - getting him farther away from the soap and body wash and things that smell like him because they're his products that he uses every day, and while that might be fun. To have Steve smell like him. But right now it’s all he wants for Steve to smell like  _ Steve.  _

He’s so resolute and focused on the way Steve smells  _ perfect  _ that he ignores, for the moment, the way his raging erection wetly slides between his perfect cheeks like it belongs there as he tugs him back like he’s trying to hold him from tumbling into a fight. He growls lowly anyway. Tuning out Steve little moan and stating, only halfway to his Alpha Voice, “no.” 

Steve huffs, but he shakes his head and leans back. Putting his head onto Bucky’s shoulder and looking up at him with amusement, somehow slouching down enough to make up the short distance between their heights, “Buck, you need to have something before your rut really-” 

“I will.” He insists, voice darkening, “but, you, you-” his brain is a slushy of hormones and pheromones and instincts and everything else. He can barely think on his own but with Steve sandwiched to him, smelling like he does, he’s having even more trouble. Steve wiggles in his arms. His ass is plush and hot against him. He notices this time. He groans, nearly roars with the feeling. His eyes snap shut. His hips thrust forward into his body, little pants falling out of him already. He wants to fuck his omega, so bad, he needs to be inside of him. Soon. Now. 

_ “Oh,” _ Steve says, soft but wobbly. The big omega’s breath keeps hitching and catching as his hips keep rocking forward into the valley between his cheeks. Bucky can’t smell that he’s leaking slick yet but… he is wet. With water from the shower, maybe with sweat- he does run very hot. He’s pretty sure his body is hotter than his right now though, with his rut raging on. His jaw clenches tight as the first wave of  _ now  _ rocks his body, the pulse in his knot spreads slowly through his skin, traveling to his balls for now. He knows later it’ll be everywhere but that he’ll feel it mostly in his balls and knot and the tip of his cock, his body begging for friction and heat and a tight channel to fuck into. 

Seeking relief from the thumping heat gathering over his body and rushing through him he thrusts forward again, harder, rocking Steve forward. From the pounding in his ears of  _ claim, rut, knot, knot, knot, breed, claim, claim, knot, rut. _

Steve whimpers and he goes boneless, easy as anything. Melting to him. Bucky moans his approval, licking the side of his neck again and tasting tap water from the shower and salt from his sweat. Leftover from the night and fresh. He also tastes like  _ Steve.  _ Bucky’s tongue slides against his teeth, a simple sensation to distract from the overwhelming hunger he suddenly has to put his mouth in other, more interesting places. 

It takes him a couple of seconds to locate his tongue and then his thoughts, “I’ll eat but,” he whines, he can’t stop his hips little pulses now that he’s started them and there’s pleasure rushing up and over his skin, lapping at him like waves. Eager and inviting. His rut is growing stronger by the second, the first wave softening into constant ripples, being pressed against Steve like he is. “But- you, you can’t-” he groans. Shutting his eyes again, nibbling at all the available skin of his willing omega. His balls ache now with how hard they’re throbbing- filling and tightening in preparation for breeding his omega. 

He heaves in thick breaths for a moment, his chest pressing tighter to Steve’s back, small sounds whistle in and out of him with the air. It doesn’t help to calm him down. 

“What can’t I do?” Steve whispers, his breathing slow, washing over his face. Steve’s own face is pretty and pink, flushed with his growing arousal, turned to look at him. Bucky scrambles to pull his hand from his stomach to squeeze his hip. If he doesn’t have something to hold onto he’s gonna start palming his little dick and then they’ll never, never get out of the shower. They’ll spend his whole rut there, shattering the glass walls and having their sounds bounce off of the tile and-

_ Nope. Nope.  _ He can’t think about what Steve’s pretty little sounds probably sound like when he gets fucked. Let alone-  _ no,  _ he can’t think about what they’d sound like amplified like that. 

Steve gasps like he can read his filthy thoughts, except, no, he’s just digging his fingers into him.  _ Get yourself together.  _

“Don’t wash,” he pouts, finally placing the words and lapping at his neck some more, mouthing at him hungrily, pressing his nose to his scent gland. Unable to stop himself from doing any of it. From touching him, from grabbing and squeezing him, from rocking his hips into him, from kissing his neck. He can’t control any of it with his rut breathing down his neck. “No point. ‘M gonna get you sweatier any-anyway.” 

Steve doesn’t answer. 

Although Bucky gets a quick glimpse of how he rolls his eyes, he just leans forward and turns off the shower either way. Attitude be damned. 

Bucky rumbles his approval at first but in the process of turning off the water without moving out of his arms like the way he is means that his ass is shoved  _ hard  _ and oh-so perfectly against his knot. Bucky just about faints. He can feel the clench of his hole against the bloated form of his knot, pressing against him, opening just a little with the force. He’s gonna black out.  _ Fuck.  _ His omega is so  _ hot.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s gonna die. Steve has the serum- he heals super fast his body should be in perfect order- he’s… he’s,  _ Jesus,  _ he’s gotta be tight. So tight. So tight. And there’s no rushing water to hide his own damn near feral noises, nor is there any white noise of the shower to disguise Steve’s sweet little mewl. Which does  _ gorgeously  _ bounce off of the tile of the bathroom. Echoing and melting Bucky’s brain. 

Not only do his incoherent noises echo off the tile but so do his words. 

So Bucky hears it loud and clear, even over his racing, thundering, pounding heart rate that’s enclosed on his ears when his omega whimpers, _“oh!_ _Oh._ Fuck, alpha. _You’re so big.”_ His voice is sweet and higher than normal, breathy and pretty, and he sounded so, so turned on by it. He sounds like he doesn’t only like that his cock is big but he sounds like he wants it, like he craves it, like he loves it. 

Bucky stumbles back, his hands coming away from Steve’s skin but still staying up and out like he’s been frozen in place but moved slightly away so it just looks kind of off. Like a graphics glitch in a video game. Vaguely out of place. Stunned. 

He takes another step back, flares burn through his groin. The words burst through Bucky’s skull like a bomb, wrecking him. They burn a path of lava through his body, straight down his twitching cock. Both the content of the words - Steve being so plainly into the size of him in a way that he’s never experienced before, all of his other partners have been intimidated or scared - and in the words themselves - his sweet voice saying  _ ‘alpha’  _ like that just might kill him - make him step back again. Nearly stumbling with the slick floor of the shower. The muscles of his legs are tight and cramping, protesting the fact that he’s moving away from his rut partner, his goddamn  _ boyfriend. _ But- he’s gonna have a heart attack if he stays put. His blood is boiling. His knot is angry and unbearably hot and hard and it fucking  _ hurts.  _ But he can’t. He fucking- 

He was worried about being pushed into full rut in the shower and not being able to let Steve move, spending the next couple of days in his bathroom fucking, but now it’s an actual danger. 

Steve, his Steve, has turned around and is staring at him, clearly very confused. A little tiny whimper escapes his downturned lips. A shiver rocks his glorious frame, tightening his muscles, making them bulge and ripple but making him look a hell of a lot smaller overall somehow. A growl claws up his throat and vibrates the thick air between them. His heart sinks, looking at how worried and upset his omega looks because of something he did. He doesn’t want to make his omega feel like he did something wrong. He doesn’t want him to be cold. 

He swallows one of the rocks sitting in his throat but another takes its place immediately, he himself whines, his growl fading away, “can’t.” He offers. Which makes Steve’s face look even worse, even more upset. He’s stupid.  _ Knot-brained,  _ Steve’s earlier words echo through his head. 

“If I- I…” it shouldn’t be so hard to think and keep his eyes off of Steve’s nude form at the same time but it is, “I keep touching you-” he growls. Catching sight of Steve’s pretty dick, he’s not small either. Not for a male omega. But when the rest of him is so goddamn huge he looks like he’s even smaller than the average omega. His mouth is watering. His nails bite into his palms, the only images and thoughts in his head are those of throwing Steve over his shoulder and dragging him into his bed so he can suck his dick until he’s sliding against the sheets with how much he’s begun to drip. He wants to hear him squeal on his tongue. He wants those strong hands in his hair, helplessly shaking as he tongues him. 

Steve is shaking still but he the sound that pries Bucky from his thoughts and fantasies tells him that he’s shaking now because he really does smell like an alpha in rut and his omega is responding. Steve nods at him, audibly swallowing and murmuring, “get.” He tips his head toward the door, an understanding look in his eyes. He gets it. 

Bucky walks backwards to the door, unable to keep himself from staring at his omega, licking his lips, even if it means he bumps into a couple of things. Steve stays still the whole time. Lets him look his fill. 

“No scent blockers,” he can’t help but remind him when he finds himself at the doorway, tension so thick between them that it’s making it hard for him to breathe properly. He adds with a flurry of panic inside his chest, “no lotion, or, or deodorant, either.” Steve eyes him, humor beginning to glow inside his baby-blue eyes rather than just raw want. The distance is doing them both good. “Promise.” He commands, helpless to the instincts of his innermost alpha. 

“Promise,” Steve rasps. 

Bucky turns away quickly, before the rope around his waist can tug him all the way back to the blonde, standing dripping wet in the shower, frozen in place, looking at him like he’d go to the ends of the earth for him. Even if he has to fight his way there. 

Robotically Bucky searches the kitchen, racking his mind for what the fuck he can make for his omega to eat- and him, of course, he promised he would eat but… his rut-brain is reminding him that it’s even more important for him to feed his omega. His omega who’s enhanced and has a much, much faster metabolism than him or anyone else for that matter. He also doesn’t want to honestly cook anything… not when he’s naked and slightly damp. Reminded of that fact, he uses the dish towel to dry himself off, he sets it aside for washing later. 

If not cooking then what? Chopping maybe. He’s pretty proficient with a knife so he can probably handle cutting things up. 

By the time he has a mountain range of different piles of chopped food Steve is coming into the kitchen. He can smell the sugar, real sugar, smell of him. Caramelized fruit, sticky pastries, homemade hard candy, everything good and sweet. Just smelling him could give you cavities. 

His mouth moves without his mind’s consent, “come and have some of this for breakfast before I eat you for breakfast.” 

Steve inhales sharply right as he does too, his own words hitting his ears a second after he says them, and Bucky knows he’ll be blushing before he even turns around to face the omega. 

He’s pretty sure he’s blushing too- he didn’t even  _ mean  _ to say that. And he’s going to apologize but then… then Steve is giggling a little and covering his mouth with his hand, slapping himself almost. His cheeks are indeed on fire, flushed all the way to his forehead and neck at the same time. 

He turns back to the food, not daring to let his mouth move again after that, a flood of desire washing over him. 

Two thirds of everything he chopped has gone into the mountains that are Steve’s but they both have the same things. The only thing that’s not chopped are the bottles of water - a couple for each of them because they’ll bring them into the bedroom after they eat - the sticks of beef jerky that he happened to have in his cabinet and some of the last of the blueberries. Steve has two sticks of jerky, he has one. He’s not small, that’s not why he purposefully gave himself less, he’s six foot to Steve’s six two, he just knows that Steve seems to always order twice the amount that he has whenever they’ve eaten together before. The things that are chopped are cheese (Wisconsin cheddar and provolone), carrots, cauliflower, and some of the homemade bread that his coworker gave him (not that he chopped it into cubes, he just had to cut it into slices). 

Steve chirps happily, the small clearly omega-like noise settles the primal parts of Bucky that have started to rear their hot, needy heads again, now that he’s within his vision. He’s also not naked now. That helps. He’s put on his own clothes too, not his- like he did yesterday when he came home with him to wait out his ruts arrival. Yesterday that made him dizzy and buzzing with arousal and he does  _ not  _ need that right now. The organization of chopping and sorting also helped. As did the quelling of his caretaking instincts. 

They eat. 

Chatting a little here and there. Careful only to not speak about things that cannot be moved into the territory of innuendos or misinterpreted as being dirty. Just to help keep the kitchen free of slick and cum and those sorts of things. 

They’re even eating on opposite sides of the kitchen, to help from getting too handsy and being unable to stop themselves. Steve is on one side of the breakfast bar, his diminishing pile of food set on the counter. Bucky is on the other side of the bar and his back is to the opposing cabinets, food off to his left side. All to help with staving off Bucky’s rut until they’ve at least gotten some nutrients into their bodies. It’s pretty easy, all things considered, with the helping hands that they’ve set themselves.

The second they’re done eating though… it’s not so easy. 

Tension crackles through the air like sheet lightning, hovering over their heads and making the hair on Bucky’s forearms stand along with the hair on the back of his neck. His blood thickens in his veins, his heart speeds up, his vision grows minutely brighter as his pupils expand, his teeth tighten against each other, his body readies him. Knowing that now with nutrients in his system it must be time to claim his omega. 

His omega is rounding the kitchen island with a little smile curling over the corner of his mouth, bringing his pretty lips into a shy smirk. Bucky’s breath hitches, he wants to feel those lips under his, he wants to bite them, to lick them, to watch them turn red and swollen and slick with kissing and more. He’s walking slowly, one hand hovering over the counter, his big body moves slowly, gracefully. He looks like he’s floating, not walking. Heavenly. His other hand is dangling by his side. Unthreatening and nothing like the mantle he possesses. He just looks like an omega now. 

He looks like he’s approaching a feral animal. Padding softly, hands outstretched- the hole package, well, except for the look on his face. 

He doesn’t look concerned or caring or… Bucky can’t think of any more adjectives. He looks  _ eager.  _ He looks like a child on Christmas morning trying not to look like it’s Christmas morning. He looks like he knows exactly what Bucky’s body, and the alpha inside of him, knows. 

A growl rattles Bucky’s chest. His lips pull into a deeper snarl with every step closer that Steve comes. Every step closer he comes the stronger his already gripping, intense, intoxicating scent grows. Bucky feels drunk on it. His knot pulses in his sleep pants, his cock is fully hard now proximity or lack thereof not doing a thing to change the state of his erection. His rut is too strong for that to matter now.

Pulses of want urge him to step forward and reach his omega faster, pulling and pushing him terribly intensely.

He obeys. 

Getting into Steve’s space and instantly wrapping him up in his arms, tugging him closer, getting him tighter against him, until he squeaks and falls fully onto his chest. His palms spread flat on his chest, their hips aligned, his head ducked to rest on his shoulder, his scent thick and potent. Submitting and melting for him. 

Hot, sticky, thick arousal seeps through him, getting under his skin, melting his muscle and bone, making him grab for Steve’s jaw. Scrambling for his only saving grace- his omega. Holding it as delicately as he can manage with the rut raging under his skin, his hand is shaking with the strength of his unsatisfied urges. Steve makes a precious little mewl, almost chirp upon noticing that but it quickly fades into the background of his thoughts because he’s kissing Steve. Steve apparently also gives up on it. He’s leaning forward and tilting his own chin up a little because of those two inches between their heights. He doesn’t mind. His omega is everything and perfect. He presses his lips to Steve’s, empty, unsatisfied hunger flowing through him. Polluting what should just be a greeting of lips. 

His lips are plush and soft and  _ so  _ easy, spread out and compliant like a banquet for the starving man that he is. His lips are already parted slightly, knowing that with the rut he’ll want to control and deepen the kiss or just being  _ that  _ good for him. Heat thunders through him, punching through his insides like he’s a drum being beat upon. He pushes his tongue into Steve’s mouth, greeting his and fucking a little hum of a moan from him. His cock twitches. Steve makes another noise and swivels his hips forward to greet the feeling, his lips fall even more open. Even more willing. Bucky kisses him harder, his own hips pushing into Steve’s too, his lungs have already begun to need more oxygen but the burning in his cock and knot outweighs the need of his lungs. His omega is a fantastic kisser. He’s not doing nothing in the way that some omega’s kiss, letting their alpha completely do everything. No. He waits to see what he does and then he does it back, melding and yielding to him entirely still. He’s doing nothing because he’s copying and it’s amazing. His whole body throbs like his knot, twinging like he’s pulled every muscle. 

His head spins. He doesn’t know if it’s the arousal, the lack of oxygen, or the thrill of having such a perfect mate in his hold. He doesn’t care. All he knows is lust and desire and heat. 

He pulls away and Steve follows, whimpering, seeking more. Bucky’s chest heaves and his lungs scream but he’s irresistible- he could die like this and die more happy and sated than words can say. He kisses him again,  _ hard,  _ and he nips at his lower lip after, hardly able to see straight even under his shut eyelids. 

Pulling back for real this time and panting, Bucky’s body complains anyway. His eyes flick over and drag over the blonde’s face, his eyes are still shut like he’s in shock at the intensity of the kiss and, to be fair, his own lips are still buzzing like the kiss is still burning them. Smoldering to embers. Steve isn’t panting  _ thanks to the damn serum,  _ he thinks-  _ but _ he looks equally wrecked so Bucky knows he would be if not for his body’s magic. His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes are wide and dark, and his lips are wet. Already pinker, already faintly puffier with the attention he’s paid to them. Bucky is bewitched. 

He groans even though he’s breathless still,  _ “fuckin’ gorgeous,” _ he mumbles into Steve’s mouth, kissing him quickly and pulling away. The need for air is a little too strong still to dive back in head first. 

Steve moans softly and sways forward, from either his words or the quick peck… but he hides from his embarrassment by ducking his head and pulling his shoulders inward so it must be the first one. His cheeks are instantly more pink then they were a second ago. And,  _ oh, no,  _ Bucky cannot have that. 

He cannot not let him accept any compliment. 

He touches his fingers to chin again, bringing his jaw up again, slow and gentle, but this time rather than claiming his mouth with his tongue and teeth and heated kisses, Bucky slowly captures his lips. Rekindling what the first kiss should’ve been instead of the unbridled hunger that it was. Holding his jaw and his face and kissing him with all of the affection he has in his body, all of the arousal he has too. The kiss is deep and dark and full of meaning and Bucky wants to make sure that Steve, his omega,  _ gets  _ that. He wants him to know. He’s telling the truth- Steve is the most gorgeous creature he’s ever fucking seen. Pale, freckled skin, golden hair, blue and green sparkly eyes, sweeping lashes, a moviestar cut jaw, strong cheekbones, pretty shoulders and an even prettier waist that melts into his heart-stopping legs. Everything. Everything about him is gorgeous. Bucky’s faint just thinking about him in all of his beauty, his cock is so swollen and full as his heart fights for some of the blood in his body too. 

Steve makes an endearing and arousing sound into his mouth, humming a little, “mmm” of enjoyment. Bucky can feel how much he’s enjoying it, his pretty little dick straining his clothes. He can practically feel the hunger inside him growing. Ballooning outward. Arousal strikes through his chest like a whip, slashing a red line of desire over his skin, branding him as salacious.

Bucky finally lets him go when he’s pretty sure his face is going to be blue. When his head is spinning and his body is floating. When he can’t take sweet kisses with an undercurrent anymore and he needs something more. 

Steve sighs and looks up at him with those gorgeous baby blues, eyes wider and wetter than they had been before. Darker too. He doesn’t say anything though. Bucky knows anyway, his cheeks are still flushed red and he still looks shy but he isn’t cowering away. He kisses him again for it, a hungrier than it should be thank you. 

This press of lips is hotter, wetter, deeper. It makes his blood stutter to a stop in his veins. It makes the most primal parts of him purr and want to howl. It makes him want to drag his nails over Steve’s skin until he’s red and whimpering, hard and leaking from the tip of his dick, his cunt, and his eyes. He wants to wreck him. He wants to ravish him. He wants to  _ own  _ him- his pleasure. 

His neck is blushing too when Bucky leans down and kisses over his scent gland, hot and flushed. He hears and feels the moan that gets caught in his arched back neck as he presents his neck to him. A sigh of complete and utter submission. Bucky can smell him even better like this, with his lips and nose pressed to his damn near alcoholic smell, he doesn’t need the help but he can’t stop himself from taking it. His thoughts spill around the idea of damn near eating him alive, covering him in bite marks, as he plants a scorching path of hot, wet, open-mouth kisses up his neck. His head is fuzzy with everything boiling through his body. Steve shutters in his arms and he wants to  _ howl.  _ His fingers dig deeper into the parts of him that he’s holding onto, he doesn’t know what the fuck his hands are doing. He barely knows what his mouth is doing, he’s paying all of his attention to the omega he’s got in his grasp. Steve gasps, pushing himself into his lips and chest, arching his back now with his neck. Trusting him to keep him standing up-right. 

He hums approvingly. He wants nothing more than to have and to hold all of him. 

Bucky could stay suspended there forever, holding up the weight of his quickly melting omega and kissing and kissing and biting and licking him. Tasting his sweat on his tongue when he wants to taste his blood, to know his bond. His knot is still aching, his balls still feel heavy and solid, his body is still screaming for him to drag his omega down onto the floor and make him take it.  _ Right here.  _ In the kitchen. Just to prove that his omega will do anything for him, just because he can’t wait and his omega is so willing that he’ll let him. Let him rip his clothes off and hold him in his body. Let him use him. 

But he keeps kissing him, caught up in his frenzy. 

One here, two there, four or five in other places. Some nips here, bites over those little nibbles, maybe just some soothing lavs of his tongue. Maybe some more strokes of his tongue because it makes him tremble and moan and his scent spikes and  _ that  _ goes straight to his head. Maybe more bites because he can’t get enough of feeling his breath and moaning sounds getting caught in his throat. Then he can’t not kiss where he knows his air is getting stuck in his throat. 

He can’t not follow the invisible, inaudible roadmap of his instincts. He just plows forward, paying no mind to the extra rich and sugary scent that has managed to slip his mind. Paying no mind to the swelling, swelling, swelling of his cock and knot and balls and all of the overwhelming heat and arousal inside of him. 

He just keeps kissing his neck, sucking hickies into him and biting him and dragging his canine teeth over him to feel him tremble and hear him whine. Kissing his lips, letting him moan into his mouth and swallowing the noises until he’s full of his omega. Kissing his jaw because every inch of him he wants under his mouth. Kissing his cheek because his flush is too pretty to not taste. Kissing his clothed shoulder because it’s also right there. Drawing lines of hot kisses all over him without thinking. Inhaling again and again and not noticing the excellent smell wafting from his omega, strong enough to make a sane man go crazy… maybe he’s just already crazy. 

He traces the shell of his omega’s ear with his lips and then his tongue, growling into his ear and humping forward into him when it makes his body break out in an earthquake. An earthquake because his omega is his world, his home, now. 

Succulent pain trickles down his scalp to his spine and then to his full, clenching gut at the tugging from Steve’s fingers, twisting in his hair and pulling him away from his skin. Dragging his mouth back and away from his used and abused skin. 

Bucky  _ growls  _ at him because he just has to. 

His lip automatically curls up. His fingers dig harder into his skin and tug him harder into his body, making Steve gasp when their opposing crotches slide together. Hot and lethal. The blonde’s dick is much, much smaller than his heavy, undeniably alpha cock but not any less hard. He throbs like a raw nerve at the contrast between them. Steve’s body may be bigger and harder and more “alpha” looking but he’s probably under half the size of him where it counts. Hot, dark possession curls around his ribs and squeezes a moan from his throat.

Steve tugs again and he moans this time, the sparks of pain skipping along his skin even more pleasurably this time with the harder tug. He clenches his jaw as his body instinctively fights being moved away from his omega even though his omega is clearly the one doing it. That doesn’t mean he  _ likes  _ it, he wants to be as close to him as humanly possible. 

But then he gets a look at his omega and the fight  _ drains _ from him. Disappearing so fast that he doesn’t even remember it being there in the first place. 

Steve looks  _ so _ wrecked that he stops growling without even having to swallow down or choke back the noise. His eyelids are so low and heavy that he looks like he can barely see, his eyes are barely open and beyond that his eyes are so dark that he might not be able to see anyway. There’s no blue left in them, only carnal, wanting black. His face is flushed even hotter now than it was the last time he looked and actually  _ saw _ him, there’s sweat dampening his forehead and glistening in little rivers across his skin but especially around his hairline where it’s darkening his blonde hair to brown, his breathing is labored and humid with effort, his lips are bright candy red and swollen, his neck is painted with a wild smattering of hickies and teeth marks. 

He looks like sin wrapped in a human disguise. He wants to bite him. To bond him. To always have him this way.

Bucky has no idea how long it’s been, how long he’s spent layering him in kisses and bites but clearly it’s been a pretty good chunk of time now. His lips are buzzing so much that it nearly feels like they’re vibrating, his must be swollen too. He licks his lips unthinkingly, Steve’s dark, heavy eyes follow the movement. His appetite increases exponentially now that he’s not in a trance, rumbling low in him like an oncoming thunderstorm, shaking windows so hard that they shatter. Lust courses through his veins like he’s been drugged with it, coming on  _ strong  _ and  _ fast. _ His vision is blurry and dark in the corners- making him only focus on the omega in front of him. His rut burns through him like a rampant forest fire, branding his insides and then melting them instantly. Turning him to nothing but the memory of a man. He’s only desire and hunger and heat now. 

“Buck-” Steve’s voice breaks with a quick, panted breath “-yyy.” His lips barely shape the words, lazy with his desire, his breath fans over his face, they’re so close together. He can’t resist just another kiss, _ just a peck, _ even as Steve paws weakly at his chest. Whimpering under his lips. His hands are the one’s trembling now, or- well, he’s not paying attention to himself, he’s probably shaking too. 

Now that he’s not caught up in kissing and feeling and being reeled into the siren call of his skin he’s reminded of his own throbbing need. The current of the stream that it was before is now the rushing of white-water rapids and it’s not just rushing around his feet but it’s raised all the way up to his waist, threatening to envelop the rest of his body and pull his head under. His head might already be under the cloud or spell or ocean of scent that’s coming off of his omega, mingling with his thickly, transforming it into something that’s indescribable but rewiring his fucking brain with how fucking  _ good  _ it smells and makes him feel. Again- he has to have been drugged or something.  _ Fuck.  _

“Bed-bedroom,” Steve whimpers, his words slurred and high. Desperation wrapped in one sound. 

_ What a fucking idea. Goddamn.  _

Bucky might’ve blacked out. Actually. 

He has no idea how they’re in his bedroom but they are. Heat is pounding under his skin like a highway of lava. All that’s in his head is  _ claim, rut, breed, claim, claim, rut, rut, rut  _ pounding through him faster than his heart beat. He has no clear memory of walking his omega clumsily through his apartment back to the bedroom, just one of wandering lips in the kitchen and more shoves and hair-pulls from Steve, whimpers about  _ c’mon, buck. Hhnng, stop, stop, you gotta- we gotta- bedroom. Bedroom. Now, alpha.  _ Over and over again because being separated from him for just a moment makes him shake with agony and fire and he  _ needs _ him. And then they’re in the bedroom and there’s more Steve. 

More of his omega- he can’t get enough of him. He’s so intoxicating. So good. Like ice to his burns, making him less crazy, less animal. 

_ Steve probably used some of his super strength to push us here, didn’t he?  _ He thinks hazily, not really thinking at all, just letting his brain go about what it normally does without any input from him. He doesn’t bother to think about that more anyway, not when he has the blonde with him in his bedroom. 

Not that he’s actually  _ looking _ at the bedroom to know they’re there, he, he just knows that they’re in the bedroom and his hands are on Steve’s abs, his skin is warm and sweaty and inviting. A balm of something that might be calm if he wasn’t so entranced settling over him. Palms down on his gorgeous skin, his nose pressed into his neck, drinking in his scent and feeling the heady pulses of it taking over his head. Dunking him deeper and deeper under his spell. His instincts are growling and yelling at him, making him bite a little harder than he should at him.  _ Claim.  _ Wanting to make the marks stay for longer than they have.  _ Bond.  _ Wanting to see the evidence of his claim on his omega.  _ Breed. _ His knot throbs more and more and more, aching like his whole being is being tortured and not just his cock.  _ Rut.  _

He whimpers despite himself, hurting, he is the one controlling all of this but… he cannot stop himself. He should- he should… do _ something? _ Something. About his pulsing, hot agony. About the way Steve smells. About the sweat glistening over both of their bodies. About the cloud of primal, carnal, animalistic impulses hanging over him, clinging to him. 

Steve’s abs ripple under his palms and he can’t stop the growl that rattles out of him (his eyes might roll to the back of his head because he’s  _ that  _ fucking tortured at this point)- his growl makes Steve moan. He moans loud and high and so fucking prettily that he can’t see straight for a second, all he sees is darkness tinted with red. A second that’s stretched into what feels like years when he whines,  _ “c’mon, want you in me already,” _ complaining unabashedly. 

_ Fuck.  _ He loves that he knows just what he wants. It makes him crazy- even more crazy. Steve wants him to fuck him and Bucky wants the same.  _ Claim. Bond. Breed. Rut.  _ He wants him so bad he right be seeing literal red.

Bucky throws himself into action, words rattling through him, forcing his shaking hands to stop so he can rip Steve’s shirt over his head and throw it somewhere. He doesn’t give a shit where it goes. Even if they can never find it again. All because his omega is right  _ there. _ Ripe for the taking. 

He’s so fucking turned on that he can’t breathe. 

He can’t speak. 

He can’t blink even though he’s so stunning that he’s going blind. He stares down Steve’s heaving chest, his pecs are round and smooth and _big._ And even though they’re all muscle and skin and not fat they still jiggle with the impressive movement of his ribcage. His whole chest is as flushed as his face and the vague thought of teasing and praising him until his whole body is blushing red races over the front of his mind. _He’d squirm and whimper so much, wouldn’t he? His little cock leaking like his hole the entire time._ His mouth waters while his jaw clenches. He looks at him, memorizing every inch as he sees it. Jesus, _fuck,_ his omega has a _rack._ He has _curves._ He throbs in his pants, his cock jumping, and one of his hands shoots down to harshly grab and massage himself through them. He can’t take it. He can’t take the need pulsing and racing through his skin and muscle and bone and breaking him. Wrecking him. Striking him down and shattering him. Breaking him in like a stallion. 

The blonde’s nipples are the softest, prettiest pink Bucky has ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on, they scream  _ sensitivity  _ with the delicate look of them but that doesn’t stop him from doing what he wants to them. From  _ taking  _ what he wants from them.

He nearly goes cross eyed as he dives forward with a downright feral sound, burying his head between his tits. His fucking _tits_ because- _damn,_ he shouldn’t be allowed to look like that. Bucky groans heartily into his skin, licking up his sternum and listening to him gasp; feeling him tremble and feeling his back arch. He tastes like sweat and sweetness and himself. His palms sweep up and down his back - the sensation of it is so good that he doesn’t even miss the friction to his cock half as much as he should - sliding through his sweat and- wait. 

_ Hold the fuck on.  _

Bucky moans into the smooth, perfect skin of his chest and skips the trip down his naturally, perfectly arched back to just go in for the kill instead. He grabs his ass. Moaning and growling at the same time at the sizable wet patch he finds. The sound that exits him has his throat aching just like all of him does. He’s shaking like he’s a bell that’s been struck with a hammer, he’s ears are even ringing. Slick is staining the backside of his pants and beginning to drip down his legs. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ _No wonder he smells like a fucking debauched dessert._

_ “Ohhhh!”  _ Steve gasps, pretty, breathy, and downright hopeless. Drawn out and almost guttural- entirely pleased. The noise is so dirty sounding that Bucky drools a little over his skin. Mouthing brokenly at his right pec, working his way over to the other side.

Steve presses his chest up into his mouth and his wet backside into his palms, more delicious, obscene noises falling from his lips and something inside of him just **_breaks_** when Steve mewls, _“alpha,”_ all soft and he claws at his shoulders like _that._

He shoves Steve forward and then shoves him even harder down onto the bed. He squeaks in shock and then moans, his weight making him bounce on the bed, little bits of giggles leaking into the filthy, loud sound. A wrecked little smile is painted on his mouth- enjoying the rough treatment. Enjoying getting his way finally even if this will probably be better for him because he’s the one that’s in season. He’s the one that’s going insane the longer that time stretches on. His instincts are breathing down his neck, getting closer and closer to using their teeth on him rather than just dangerous, fanning breaths of boiling oxygen over his boiling skin. Burning him alive. 

His fingers fumble into the waistband of his omega’s pants and rip them down without hesitation, pulling him a couple more inches down the bed easily with the rut and his desperation increasing his strength. They only come to rest under his ass but Steve giggles more, breathy and just as pleased. His instincts flare. He wants to give him  _ everything.  _ So he gives his sweats another vicious tug, pulling them down to his knees this time. His lungs stutter, more skin available to his hungry eyes, he wants him  _ so  _ bad. He pulls again- his pants slip down to his ankles. He wants to be inside of him so, so, so, so, so so sosososo bad. He might cry over it if he can’t fucking free his pants from around his ankles. He tugs at the fabric. 

Bucky frees his first ankle. Then his second.

Then he throws himself on top of his omega, nothing but eager want controlling him, rumbling and pushing him into the bed.  _ Claim.  _ He starts rocking down into him, rolling his hips into all that bare, flushed skin that he’s been presented with.  _ Rut. Breed. Knot. _

The friction on his cock feels so nice that he can’t even moan or growl or anything. His vision wipes to black as if he’s shut his eyes… and he might’ve. He can’t understand anything but the bolts of pleasure coming to lap at his skin like eager ocean waves. He can’t do anything but move more into it, humping his omega. He just absorbs it. Soaking in the pleasure finally bursting through his agony, his denial, his waiting. He leaks heavily, pre-cum bubbling over the tip of his cock as his breath finally comes back to him, making him pant heavily. He needs to cum so back. He  _ needs _ to breed his omega.  _ Fuck.  _ More pleasure erupts under his skin, sinking further and further into him, getting a firmer grasp on him. 

Steve moans and moans, trying to roll up into him some too but getting stopped with his eager rutting. He can’t keep up. Bucky shakes and trembles, quaking with need and arousal. Satisfaction beginning to barely creep up the back of his throat, wetting his tongue, getting him hungrier for more. Making his appetite grow and his stomach growl louder. Eager. 

But then Steve laughs? He laughs. 

His head is spinning so fast that he can’t read the sounds of it. He rocks forward just a little less eagerly but then a whine is polluting his laughter and so he keeps doing it anyway. His muscles may go limp for a second or two but he can’t keep himself from the swirling pull of the tornado that is his own primal desire. He moans and clings tighter to his omega. His laugh echoing in his head- not making any sense. 

Breathily Steve starts, “Buck-  _ Buck!”  _ Little bits of laughter break through his words, Bucky growls. He doesn’t know why. He just does it. He also shoves his face a little harder into his tits. He bites him for good measure, sinking his teeth into the hard but evidently very sensitive muscle of his chest, and it cuts Steve’s next words into a passionate moan, “take off-!  _ Oh! Ah! AH!”  _ He bites him again, sucking more this time, licking over the reddening skin and pulling more of those delicious tiny but wrecked sounds out of him. He smirks into the damp skin under his mouth. His hips are back to rocking full force now, the itch under his skin has come back. Rising up again. Making his head pound with need, knowing and telling him over and over again.  _ Rut. Claim. Rut. Knot him. Knot. Knot him. Breed him. Make him take you. Breed him. Claim him. Fuck him. Knot him. Rut. Rut- _

Steve isn’t deterred for long though, “take off, off those pants.” 

His fist thumps into the mattress somewhere below where his attention is focused for the time being when he licks a broad stripe up his skin, nibbling some here and there, the force of it shakes the bed. He does it again. He whines. His back arches, pushing his tits higher up. “Off.” He says definitively, “take you-your pants off then you can fucking fuck me-ee!” 

_ There’s an idea.  _

He gets up onto his elbows and shimmies out of his sleep pants. 

He whines low in his throat, aching to cry, as he stops grinding - humping, really - into his omega. Depriving himself yet again. Cutting his pleasure short. He’s boiling inside, his skin feels too tight, there’s too much hunger inside of him, even his fingernails are pulsing with his rut. He’s ready to go. To breed. To rut. To claim. 

He hooks a finger into the waistband of his pants and tugs them down as effectively as he can, he’ll probably have to throw them out after this, he’s leaking so much, they’ll stink of his rut forever. But his instincts only egg him on whispering,  _ or you could keep them for when the omega needs to nest. They’d be great for that. He’d probably hump them and smell them if you couldn’t be there with him. He’d defile those pants. He’d get off on them. Get off to  _ **_you_ ** _.  _

He groans, resting his forehead on Steve’s chest and throws them somewhere else, not caring about all of the frustration contained within the movement. He needs- needs to get off. He needs to  _ rut.  _ So goddamn bad. His arm still planted in the bed shakes with the effort of holding his own weight up when all of his muscles are only screaming to plunge forward into his  _ naked  _ omega. His mind reels, spinning at a million miles an hour. 

He finds his voice from where he choked it down along with all of his want and needs and excess instincts and he rasps, “gotta get you ready, omega.” His throat is raw and the words feel clumsy on his tongue and lips, but Steve whimpers like it’s the best dirty talk he’s ever heard. His legs spread wide, exposing himself, wafting his scent straight to his brain. It flows straight to his cock, making him leak a little more and twitch a couple of times. He groans again.  _ He’s gonna die. _ His omega is going to kill him- he’s too fucking hot. He sits up, listening to whatever his body instinctively tells him to do. Getting his feet under him so he’s kneeling between his legs. 

_ “How’d you want me?” _ Steve sighs, content with the new, rapid direction of this. His little dick is sitting prettily against his stomach working its way to making a puddle right there on his skin, between his wide spread legs, red and throbbing. 

_ I wonder if his hole is just as red and needy as that pretty sight?  _ His knot screams at him, it feels like he’s almost fully inflated. Like he could thrust into his omega and be locked in him instantly.

But Bucky stares at him. He hears his words, he hears his own thoughts but he can’t make his own words. He can’t get them out. He can’t even think straight. All he can do is look and  _ drool. _

His blue eyes are dark, purely black now, haunted by the animal inside of him, clawing and howling to get out and possess his body with those carnal actions that his eyes speak of. Dirty and wanting. His eyebrows are slightly drawn together, pinching with the pleasure he was getting before but has since lost. His lips are red, not pink anymore, swollen and plumped with the urgency crackling between them. The want. His nipples are sharp points against his full chest, all of his chest is blushing red, shiny with sweat. He looks like desire in one imagine, filth in one second, lust in one color. He’s everything Bucky wants. Perfect. Tempting. Mouth-watering. 

_ “Alpha?” _ Steve whispers, staring right back into his eyes. Inarguably looking straight at the darkest, most alpha parts of him being shown in his hungry irises and holding steady. Unafraid.

Bucky shakes himself, growling, reminding himself of what he’s supposed to be doing. Feeling the undying need for his omega rush through his nervous system, causing his fingers to clench into fists and his entire body to tremble. His balls pulse, feeling heavier than ever, tightening like if he doesn’t cum soon he’s going to explode anyway. “Just like this,” he says, forcibly uncurling his fingers to stroke the unmarked, pale skin of his thigh, “want you just like this.” 

Steve whimpers but nods, his eyes sliding shut just before he lifts his shaking legs, bringing them just a little more together so he can set them on either side of his waist. Settling his thigh closer into the touch of his palm. Silently begging him to get on with it. Trusting and needy.  _ Claim. Claim him. Good omega. Such a good omega. Bond him. Rut.  _ His cheeks redden and his thighs tense as he rumbles low in his chest, all of the impulsive thoughts piling up, rushing into his head all of the sudden. He wants to eat him alive. 

He bends forward, nosing the inside of his knee and breathing for a second. Relishing the last of what he’ll remember from this rut other than the overwhelming pleasure that’s to come for him. The rest of this will be feverishly good, intoxicatingly good- but it’ll be hazy when he looks back to it.

With the last moment of his restraint he kisses the side of his omega’s knee and then plunges forward. 

Dragging the fingertips of his right hand through the excess slick coating the backs of his thighs, relishing in the hot, wet feeling, coating his fingers. Getting them wet so he can slip them into him, into his wet heat. He starts truly panting, his chest coiling tight with heat. It’s really happening. He’s going to fuck his omega. He’s going to bury himself inside of him. In his body. 

He circles the tip of his index finger around the clenching muscle of his rim. He’s hot, wet, and puffy. All of his thoughts scatter, he traces the pretty, sensitive skin, listening to the hitching cries of Steve’s breath through the rushing of blood in his ears. His rim is just as pink and swollen as his dick…  _ even more actually _ , he decides with a quick glance up to his dick, twitching happily against him. A true puddle of sweet, watery pre-cum making its home on his belly. 

His mouth waters, wanting to lap up the little ocean and to drink it down, but the agonized throbbing of his knot outweighs his lips and tongue's selfish hunger. He’s on fucking fire. He mouths at the inside of his thigh instead of licking up his stomach like he really wants to. Catching traces of his wetness and moaning with squeezed shut eyes at the sugary, heavenly taste bursting over his tongue. He sucks at his skin, trying desperately to locate any missed bits of slick. Steve moans too, his thighs tense, bulging in his peripheral vision. He has his feet flat on the bed now, his knees bent, caging him in. He presses harder at his delicate, pink, soaked entrance, a dark growl of, “so pretty,” bubbling up from somewhere within him. 

Steve’s thighs squeeze the sides of his face like he can’t take it. But his cunt lets him in and so in he goes.

He moans, imagining the tight, wet, hot clench of his cunt on him, milking him, parting sweetly for his cock and his knot. Rippling and ready to lock down on him. As carefully as his tortured, throbbing body will allow him to, he presses forward. Pushing his first finger up to the second knuckle before he finds resistance. He also finds his tongue, “so tight,” he murmurs into the shaking muscle of his thigh. Steve whines, shrill and feminine and Bucky slides his knees back instinctually, pressing his pelvis into the bed and growling when his cock meets the soft resistance of the mattress. It’s not enough to make him cum, no, at this point he needs his omega to be around him, but he feels so good. 

His eyes roll back into his head. He swallows and pants, pulling his finger from his omega’s body and thrusting it back in. Chuckling when he moans and pushes down, crying out, “more!” 

He pushes his finger up into him until he reaches the third knuckle, getting light headed with desire. Fucking his hips as far down into the mattress as he can even though it makes his hamstrings twinge a little. He just wants some relief. Seeking as much pressure and friction as he can. Flames licking up his legs to his balls. Making him twitch and leak and ache more. He’s already been set on fire, that happened a long fucking time ago but now that he knows what he’s been missing out on - Steve’s tight, tight,  _ tight,  _ wet, fucking soaked, hot as fuck, scorching cunt - he’s been lit on fire again. Not just with some kitchen, strike anywhere matches that are flimsy and break when you try to strike them on the side of the box but with a gas can full of gasoline dumped onto him and heavy duty matches that would make an arsonist proud, lighting up blooms of flames that will not and can not be extinguished. 

It’s like all of his muscles are tensed, all of them are shaking, all of him is alive and buzzing and wanting. All of him is being electrocuted. All of him is on fucking fire.

“Jesus. _ Fuck, omega,” _ he slides another fingertip into him, writhing on the inside with aroused peril while Steve writhes on the outside, unable to stay still with his rising pleasure. His abs rippling, his fingers curling into the sheets, his head thrashing from one side to the other and he’s only  _ barely _ got two fingers into him. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, honey.” He rumbles, cooing at the whimpering, moaning omega, barely paying attention to what’s coming out of his mouth and just to what he feels like around his fingers. Stretching him out and dodging his prostate because he’s so sensitive already and he wants this to feel good for him for as long as possible. 

_ “Uh-huh,” _ he gasps, sounding pretty fucked out already, moving his hips down onto his fingers again. Seeking out more even as his hole is tight as a virgin’s. Hotter than sin and wetter than a dream. 

“Look at you,” Bucky says, choked and awed as he slips his second finger all the way into him, “watching you eat me up,” he groans at his cunt, wanting, thrusting into the bed and biting his lip hard to stop himself from roaring or shouting with it, arousal and pleasure flaring hot and tight inside of him. His very core aches. His rim is twitching and hungry, taking him so easy for how tight he felt just a moment ago. 

Steve makes a sound that’s something of a hiccupped sob, whining high and thin. Shaking all over. His fingers twitching here and there as he tries to hang onto the sheets.

It turns Bucky on impossibly further, “being so good for your alpha, Stevie.” He doesn’t know where the words or the nickname comes from inside of him. But Steve’s dick twitches and he loosens enough to take another fingertip so he keeps fucking going. How could he not, “yeah, yeah, so good. Taking my fingers so well. Fuck. Honey, lookit this hole.” Steve’s head comes up like he’s actually going to try to look at his own dripping cunt but he thunks his head back down quickly, releasing the sheets to hit the mattress again, groaning unashamedly as his fist dents the bed. “Thought it wasn’t gonna fit me-” Steve whines, agonized by the very thought of not being able to take him, “but can see that it’s hungry, it’s gonna do just fine.” He moans. “‘S right, omega, you’re gonna take me just fine. I can tell.” 

Steve’s mouth falls open silently as he spreads his fingers apart, tucking his third finger farther in just below the second knuckle now, rocking them gently in and out as he does it. Teasingly stretching his rim. Just giving him a little tiny taste of what’s to come. 

He can feel his internal muscles rippling and clenching, trying to entice him into fucking him already. 

Bucky groans and Steve sings in response, clenching around him but also staying pliant enough for his third finger to slide all the way into him as he relaxes the spread of his finger. His body is aching and clawing to be inside of Steve in the same way that his willing, dripping omega is aching for him to be inside of his body but he can’t do it. Not yet. He needs to get him opened up around four fingers. He has to. He’s too big to not hurt him with only three fingers packed into his tight, hot, leaking cunt. 

“Wanna know how?” He voices, rough, piggybacking off of the previous ramblings. Steve squeals, squeezing him and bucking his hips up just a little. Working with the room that he has. Bucky’s knot pulses so hard that he nearly doubles forward from the ache, the pain curling in his head, rattling his body. He grits his teeth, distracting them both “know ‘cause your hungry for it. There’s no way you won’t lemme in, no, you’re too good.” He pauses to pant, “too stubborn.” 

Steve flutters around him, loosening up just a touch, his mouth, wet and red and entrancing stays open, lax and tempting. 

But he doesn’t lean forward and crumble into another heart stopping kiss. He rotates his wrist and places the tip of his pinky at his entrance, stretching his other fingers apart once more to prepare him for what’s about to be happening. 

Steve chokes, understanding finally and drawing out a moan of _ “yessss!” _ Tossing his head back into the mattress again. 

Bucky’s eyes focus solely on the spread of his vulnerable throat, the pale arch a siren’s call for him. He digs his teeth into his lower lip until he tastes blood, his jaw aching.  _ Claim. Claim. Bond, bond, bond, knot, claim-  _ pounds through his head. He busies his lips with words instead, talking in circles, “you were made for this. Made for it.” He shakes, pushing his pinky in a little more, feeling the hot suction of Steve’s body. He  _ wants  _ it and it’s killing him. He’s so needy, so easy, so slutty. “This hole,” he rasps, drowning in want to sink his teeth into the perfect gland on the side of his exposed throat, “this little cunt here, on my fingers,” he stretches said fingers apart right after he slips the rest of his pinky into him. As if he needs help feeling it, being reminded of the four fingers that he’s taking now. Steve moans and starts nearly hyperventilating, his face doing something unreasonably erotic, “it’s made for this. Made for me.” His omega whimpers and wiggles restlessly at that, choking on his own spit. 

“Made to be bred. Made to take my cum and get full of my cum, ain’t that right?” 

Steve doesn’t respond. And it’s just fine, Bucky didn’t expect him to. He snarls, impossibly turned on by the feel of his yielding body and his own words. His head is spinning. “Yeah. It is. ‘Cause there ain’t no way you weren’t made to be bred.” His brain runs wild with the idea of his flat, perfectly sculpted abs disappearing and being replaced with the dome of a belly, round and heavy.  _ Claimed. Bred. Pregnant. His.  _ His cock leaks enough that it almost feels like he’s cumming, soaking the sheets under the pounding, aching, wet tip of his cock. “Jus’ look at you. Your tits are perfect, honey. You're so healthy, strong, an’ ready for pups, you’d make ‘em for me, wouldn’t you?” Steve isn’t just shaking or trembling, he’s vibrating. Pushing down onto his fingers and making higher and higher sounds. Sweating and smelling sweeter and sweeter. His eyes are constantly shut now, squeezed tight with his pleasure. His cheeks and ears and neck and chest flushed red. 

“Yeah,” he starts, groaning the word thickly, “you’d be so good. Hold ‘em for us, heavy in you, growing inside you.” He wishes more than anything he had three hands so he could hold himself up, thrust his fingers into his drooling hole, and pet his stomach all at once. He wants to feel his belly under his palm while he talks about pumping him full, breeding him. “Makin’ your tits even bigger, fuck,” his vision goes fuzzy and dark, just trying to imagine it, “I’d about die.” It’s not a lie. Not at all. “Makin’ you’re hips wider. Getting you ready even more. Already perfect, you’d be such a good omega. Are such a good omega. Perfect. You’re perfect. So good and pretty and-” 

Steve wails, loud and feminine- interrupting his flow of speech and his rhythm of thrusts of his fingers into him. 

His body vibrates, shaking and curling in on itself as he cums on his fingers. Sudden and explosive. Spilling over his own stomach, cumming and cumming. His wail dying out and leaving his mouth hanging open, silently screaming and barely holding himself together. 

Bucky’s blood is so thick in his veins that it stops flowing along with his heart stopping. He’s never seen something so erotic, so pornographic. His hands are trembling and his whole body starts quaking too. He thought he had been broken before but… no. No. 

He whimpers into thin air, body screaming and begging and crying for release, for heat around his knot, for pleasure through his muscles, for anything.  _ Anything. _ He nearly sobs but swallows at the last second. He’s shaking apart, coming apart. 

The innermost primal, savage, carnal, wild, ancient alpha inside of him rears its head, urgent and snarling, and he has to take his fingers out of his omega, even though he  _ knows,  _ he knows he needs something to lock down on for him to feel satisfied but he  **_can’t_ ** _. _ He can’t. He can’t. 

Steve sobs and convulses, his eyes staying shut the whole time, paralyzed and suspended in the last embers of his orgasm. Weeping for the loss he’s experiencing. 

Bucky positions himself and slides into him. 

His mouth falls open with the intent to scream but nothing comes out of him. Nothing is felt or done besides pushing into his omega and  _ feeling  _ him. He’s boiling, fucking boiling inside. Hot and unbearably wet. Soaking his cock and knot and dripping down his balls because he’s so fucking  _ tight  _ that some of his slick is getting fucked out of him as a he enters. Sinking into him. Relief flooding through him. His vision crackles and whites out. All he can smell is his slick, mixing with the deepest parts of his scent, his smell literally getting smeared over the scent glands around his groin. He can taste his slick, the smell of it is so thick in the air. His ears ring but he can still hear the fucking  _ scream  _ that rips out of his omega. Something else is ripped too. 

_ “Hhhg- nngh! Oh! Ah! Oh, god! Alphaaaa! Alpha! Ah!”  _ Steve gasps, high and breathy like he can’t actually breathe but has to say something. He cunt pulses around him, trying its hardest to clench straight down on the intrusion of his cock right when it was getting used to locking around his fingers. It’s heavenly. So so soso so sososososos good. 

He can’t not obey the call of his body to thrust forward the rest of the way rather than continuing to sink forward slowly. The wet slap of their hips meaning will forever be stamped into his brain. Erotic and obscene. 

_ “Oh FUCK!”  _ Steve cries, he’s undoubtedly hit his prostate without even trying, the sound flying out of his mouth over the sound of more ripping. 

Bucky, all but hyperventilating at this point and dizzy with relief while desperation still pounds at his door, just out of reach for the moment, opens his eyes to nothing. His vision is black and spotty. Sparkling in the way that it does when you get up too fast and your body wasn’t ready for it. He blinks, blinks again. Mouth hanging open and his throat drying- he leans forward enough to seek out his omega’s mouth. His vision returning in pieces but his head staying blind with pleasure, fuzzy and buzzing, full of nothing but endorphins and pure pleasure. 

He finds Steve’s mouth and uselessly pants into his open lips for a second, “‘kay?” is the only thing that he can manage. His body is too overwhelmed, whited out like his vision had been. Heat assaults him. The tight clench of his body feels like something he doesn’t deserve, it’s got his eyes rolling back in his head, his tongue drying out, his heart pausing in its vital beat. 

Steve giggles again. He leans forward and licks his lower lip, Bucky starts a little (his vision still hasn’t returned to normal yet) and growls and tries to catch his mouth. Nipping at him. Finding his lower lip and taking it between his teeth for a moment. The omega giggles and gasps, his body rippling around him as he enjoys himself. Bucky is beginning to adore the fact that he’s a giggler during sex, now that he’s realized that that was what is going on- even as he’s finally inside of him. Having his mind melted and simultaneously blown away. 

“Couldn’t wait,” he pants, rolling his hips forward as much as he can, explaining anything more than that doesn’t sound doable currently. He mouths at his omega’s cheek. His eyes have slipped shut again at some point. He doesn’t try to pry them open, he just revels in the perfect feeling of his cunt. 

“Mmm-” Steve hums, “‘m good,” he sounds boneless but he picks up one of his hands and plops it on his back, purring. Loopy with his orgasm. Bucky tries to slow his breathing, he tries to slow down to let his omega have some time to rest. Steve just gropes his ass clumsily, tapping him, “rrrut,” he offers like that makes any sense. He shakes his head but groans at the same time. Warring with himself. He  _ knows  _ he’s got to be sensitive and probably even sore already. He doesn’t wanna hurt him. But he also needs to rut. To fuck him. To cum. He needs it. His body is aching and screaming for it. Fuck, it feels like he’s been run over by a truck. He  _ aches _ for it. But… but he needs to take care of his omega too. Not just himself. 

Steve isn’t having it though, especially not when his cock twitches inside of him and he whimpers into his shoulder. Trembling. Waiting. 

“Alph-” he pauses mid-word, “-a?” 

Bucky blinks his eyes open on instinct, sensing the wrong in his voice and needing to make it better. “‘Mega,” he rumbles, looking up to see his pretty face. 

His face is pink and his eyes are wide, he’s looking to his hand that’s not on his back, it’s hovering just above the bed in the corner of Bucky’s vision. They lock eyes before he can look over at his hand though. And then nothing else matters.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, saying something that sounds like _“damn,_ _super-”_ something under his breath and looking more and more embarrassed by the second. Bucky’s tongue is too thick and dry and his body is too focused on clawing every bit of his attention back to his cock and balls for him to be able to talk. He looks over to his hand instead of waiting for him to answer. Instead of asking too. 

A few of his fingers are tangled in the remains of his sheets, both of his actual sheets, and his comforter that’s on his bed. They’re both torn to shreds from where Steve had been holding him. He ripped his bedsheets.  _ Fuck.  _

_ “Oh.”  _ Steve whimpers, his hand tightening on his ass, grabbing a good handful of his flesh. His hips twitch forward at the touch. His cock twitches inside of him, probably leaking some, but with all of his slick it’s impossible to tell. A little sound slipping out of his lips- he’s so,  _ so _ hot. So wet.  _ So good.  _ “You like it-” he breathes,  _ “you like it.”  _

Bucky groans into the curve of his jaw at being so plainly called out.  _ Yeah, he fucking likes it. _ Who wouldn’t like knowing that they’re omega is feeling so good that they’re willing to  _ break  _ things. To  _ rip  _ shit. He groans thinking about it and the hand on his ass. He wants him to break shred his sheets and liter him with bruises. He wants to see evidence of the fact that he’s pleasing him. His skin is hotter than anything, his blood is boiling, he’s sweating buckets. 

_ “Please.”  _ He whimpers, “please, alpha, I can take it. Want-!” Bucky interrupts him this time, moaning and sucking a mark over the delicate skin of his scent gland. Not knowing what else to do. Everything feels so fucking good. Steve moans too, jaggedly telling him, “want you to use me.” 

He moves before he knows what he’s doing. 

He’s eye level with his omega, staring into the hungry depths of his eyes.  _ “Use me,” _ he begs, the tables turning now that he’s orgasmed. Now he’s the one talking dirty. His head spins with it, he growls and his knot throbs, expanding just a touch inside of his body. Forcing him wider and making his mouth open and close without a sound, wrecked by the feeling. Drawing out certainly fucked-out sounding pleas now, “use me, wanna, wanna be like your rut sleeve- wanna be your _toy._ Please. Please. You’re not gonna hurt me. Plea-!” 

Bucky pulls out and slams back into him. 

Giving into the animal, primal alpha inside of him which has just begun to purr with satisfaction from the roughness. _ “AHHH!” _ Gets fucked straight out of his pretty, gaped mouth, the sound nothing but a scream of pleasure. Drool slipping down his chin. His eyes shutting tight, his eyebrows drawing together, his face twisting into a picture of ecstasy. 

His body is too inviting not to continue. 

He trusts that he’ll tell him if he’s hurting him. He trusts that he can’t hurt him in the first place.

He thrusts into his omega, groaning and moaning and gasping with his pleasure, fire roaring under his skin. His fever spiking as he plows into his body, sensations growing sharper and sharper the hotter he gets. His vision swimming until he has to shut his eyes tight and dig his fingers into his omega to make sure that he’s got him and he can keep chasing the cooling tongue of the clench of his body. 

His omega screams, some of them sound like his name or his designation title but most of them just sound like  _ yes,  _ like he’s getting just what he wants.

It makes him fuck him harder, following the heat and thunder and lightning and need of his body, not knowing he could go harder but finding it. Digging his teeth into his shoulder and barely breathing around the pressure of pleasure building and building inside of him. Hollowing him out so he can feel even more pleasure. Arousal and need and want pouring into him like a waterfall as all of the sounds that his pretty, dripping, erotic omega makes gets bounced higher when he thrusts his cock into him,  _ "guh, fuck, _ Bucky” He squeals,  _ “alpha! So big! So big! You're so big,”  _ Bucky growls and fucks into him so hard that his back cracks, using him. Just like he wanted. 

_ “Oh my god! Oh! Oh! _ So heavy,” he pants, apparently not done making his brain melt out of his ears, “filling me up- up so much. S’ a lot. _ Fuck!”  _ His alpha instincts scream at him to keep fucking him, to show his omega that he can be bigger, can get his knot to pop in him and fuck him fuller than he’s ever been and so he does. Speeding his hips up, fucking into him harder. He wants nothing more than to fuck him better than anyone else so he can have him craving his knot and cock, whimpering and drooling for him because he gives it to him better than anyone.

“G-gonna leave-  _ gonna leave me gaping, alpha!"  _ He chokes, fucking his hips back down onto his cock like he craves nothing more. 

Bucky growls and digs his hips in harder, clenches his fingers harder. His words are making his head fucking spin. Making him harder somehow. Making his knot widen, thicken, and get heavier and heavier in his omega’s cunt, making him feel tighter and tighter. Driving him insane. Driving him to outer space because he’s already fucking insane at this point. 

He feels so good. So good. It feels good enough for Steve too that he stops babbling and starts incoherently making sounds that are fucked straight out of him, his prostate getting pounded.

His body is indescribably hot and wet and everything that he needs to scratch the itch under his skin. To put out the gasoline and matches fueled fire that resides in his bones and organs and deep in his very soul. He is everything.

And then the clench of his body is overwhelming all of the sudden, every thrust into him feels like it should be his last, every one makes him feel like cumming, every one feels like his knot won’t fit on the next thrust. Every one is so good that it makes his nerves fray further. He is nothing but heat and fire and pleasure and he knows nothing more than  _ claim, breed, bond, rut.  _ He is submerged in his rut, he is nothing but his omega’s alpha. Nothing else is important. 

His omega giggles drunkenly, his voice slurred with pleasure, “fill m’ up.” Bucky’s brain whites out into nothing but  _ breed, breed, breed.  _ Steve whimpers and claws at his back, feeling his instincts just as clearly as Bucky can with the way his thrusts turn into humps. Keeping his cock inside him the whole time, keeping him full. Barely moving but still making him feel good. Making them both feel good. His omega’s hands dig into his muscles, stinging with their strength, leaving bruises behind. He whimpers and cries, sobbing, “fill me up- ‘m gonna- gonna have your super babies, alpha. Gonna give me the prettiest babies. Gonna- gonna stuff me full.” 

And he has no hope. 

He’s cumming. 

Screaming, well, probably closer to howling or snarling or roaring carnally as his orgasm begins, his hips stilling as his knot slams into his body for the last time. It’s a tight fit. Immeasurable pleasure and heat and thick satisfaction pours through him and makes him crumble to pieces. He has never felt pleasure like this before, nothing can touch it, it’s indescribable. His knot pops, his eyes roll back into his head, his vision is already gone, his chest seizes with the feeling, his lungs stop functioning. His body can hardly contain the explosion of sensation inside of him. 

His cock jerks and he moans himself hoarse, feeling the release of his orgasm start in his balls, feeling lighter and less achy already, and work its way to his knot and then the tip of his cock, his cum spilling into his body. Filling him up. Breeding him. Claiming him. Waves and waves of pleasure crash over his tired body, violent and all consuming. 

_ I’m not going to survive this rut with such a perfect omega, _ he thinks illogically. Even though it should be the other way around. The more compatible the omega the less painful the rut but… he’s almost too fucking compatible. Too good. 

He crumbles down onto him even more, letting him have all of his weight, all of his body. His hips still twitch as more cum spills from him, emptying him, making his omega gasp and whine. Overwhelmed with being fucked full even while he’s got so much more to give him.  _ Gonna give him everything. Want him. He’s mine.  _

His brain goes black, collapsing under the delayed, unreal finish.

**Author's Note:**

> How'd you like this dynamic? I thought it would be fun because normally with any shrunkyclunks Steve is the dom or daddy or alpha but never the bottom and I wanted to try it. How'd I do with the writing? I know it's long and I can assure you I try to shorten it but it's impossible for me apparently. Anyway- let me know any of your thoughts! Kudos and comments and bookmarks make me literally fall in love with people.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3 <3 <3


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